Till we part
by Satansbratn
Summary: Risen from the ashes. Immortal. Powerful. The Phoenix is one of the most beautiful creatures on earth. Beautiful, but cruel. Enchanting, but unpredictable. But love can make even her human. At least for a short time.


Title: Till we part

Author: Satansbratn

Disclaimer: I don't own X-Men and don't try to make money with this story.

Timeline: X3

Rating: T

Summary: Risen from the ashes. Immortal. Powerful. The Phoenix is one of the most beautiful creatures on earth. Beautiful, but cruel. Enchanting, but unpredictable. But love can make even her human. At least for a short time.

A/N: The thanks goes to Beautiful Storm Munroe who looked this over.

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_**Till we part**_

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_Now I know love isn't painless,  
But it's worth the risk,  
It's worth the fight _

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_[Leona Lewis – Lost then Found]_

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She could still hear her, if she closed her eyes and blocked out her surroundings and the humans around her. She, her childhood friend. _Annie_.

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A tree-lined avenue. Bright sky, birds' twittering overhead. The silhouettes of two children, obscure and slightly blurred. Two girls, not even eleven years old.

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Cheerful laughter rings over the broad street, covered in fallen autumn leaves. Red hair, flickered over her shoulder as she ran a few steps, a bright blue frisbee in hand. She looks into the distance, concentrating. A frown forms upon her little face, and she lets the colored disk fly into a powerful drive.

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Another girl the same age, with chestnut hair and big blue eyes, follows the frisbee, forgets everything around her. Just the colorful plastic, and the catch mattered.

Absorbed in her game, all the noises around her are blocked out, with no view of her surroundings.

The car is red and going too fast.

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The screeching of metal to metal, the sliding of wheels on damp leaves. A thud, then silence.

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The suddenly pin sharp shape of a lifeless body on the pavement. Bent in a weird way, the left leg protruding in an odd ankle. Eyes open, clouded and without an expression. The faint picture of the bright sky still burned into the retina.

„Annie!" A piercing scream, full of fear. The face of a little girl, terrified and full of horror.

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A cry pulled her out of the memory. Jean's eyes fluttered open and her surroundings seemed to increase many times over. She moved her head a little, saw humans and mutants running her direction, in a panic-stricken flight. Nobody was very mindful of their surroundings, running over their neighbor if it wouldn't go fast enough. They just wanted to get away. Away from the island. Away from _her._ They tried to save their pathetic lives.

She caught Magneto's eye and raised an eyebrow when she felt just his life force, but not his powers as an mutant. He wasn't anyone of them. Not anymore.

At that moment a lightning bolt came down in the dust right next to her. She turned to the attacker and came face to face with her dearest friend. Calm brown eyes begged her to stop it, to end this madness, and then Ororo's voice echoed through her mind.

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„Come back. Please."

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At first, she was taken aback. There was so much desperation and fury in those three small words, and still she could feel Ororo's love for her through them. It was one of those rare moments of emotion that she wasn't used to with the normally composed Windrider.

But, returning? Coming back to the school, being caged and misunderstood? She wouldn't! She had this power now... An unbelievable power... It was much too fantastic to give it up ever again.

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Ororo sighed. She had seen the slightly other-worldly expression in Jeans dark eyes. She wouldn't come back to Westchester with them. She had made her choice.

For a moment, the Windrider observed the young woman before her as if she wanted to memorize her in an eternal picture. Then, she turned around with a sad sigh, forcing herself to take a few steps in the other direction. But still, she stopped for the last time, and looked over her shoulder at the form of the woman that once was her friend. „There was a time you were my sister..." Those were the last words she would even say to Jean Grey.

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Jean suppressed an snort. What would the weather witch know about power? About the endless opportunities that presented themselves for her? This war was just a small step into the right direction. It had to happen more. It wasn't about that group of pathetic humans or the megalomania of an old man. It had always been about power.

For a moment she tilted her head back and gazed into the bright sky. The stars glittered onto Earth and an cold smile flitted across Jean Grey's face. Soon. Soon, even the stars would tremble upon hearing this name. This body, this host... She was designated for something great.

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The sound of hastily starting engines told her the X-Men had finally understood that they couldn't win. With a triumphant smirk on Jean's foreign features she looked up – and froze.

„You didn't think that I would surrender that easily, did you? I know that you're somewhere in there, Jean!"

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Apparently not all of Xaviers students were as wise as Storm. But then, the Wolverine wasn't really a student. More like an annoying parasite she had to exterminate.

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_You should run as long as you still can, Wolverine. Or it could go very ugly here. You wouldn't want to end up as a bedside rug, would you?_

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Jean smiled, but it held none of the warmth and kindness. Logan had always loved on her so much. Now, everything about her was only cold, and strangely twisted and just... wrong.

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Logan retreated a step, gave into the illusive safety. He knew that she needn't as much as the blink of an eye to wipe him out, if she really wanted to do so. He knew it but he didn't care. If she wanted to kill him – he would take her verdict standing upright.

She could do to him whatever she wanted to, as long as Jean was safe. His Jeannie.

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She watched him, every single one of his moves. What was he up to? Would he really prove to be the fool she took him for, and try to attack her? Or would he bolt for his pack, making a nice life with the Windrider and turning his back on this decision? Principally, it didn't matter.

Whatever he would do, she wouldn't be destroyed. She was already too powerful. Immortal!

But he was a fighter. A wild animal, that would surrender only then when he lay dead at her feet.

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At that moment she noticed a small movement and saw the dangerous glittering of dark eyes. Eyes of a living weapon.

She heard a low growl and felt the opponent's rushing adrenaline coursing through her veins.

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A small smile flashed over her face. It seemed the time had finally come. Just her and the Wolverine.

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Slowly, she turned her head with the grace of a queen, and turned her gaze towards the nearly invisible figure at the edge of the island. Her look bore into the watcher who ought to be buried at the bottom of a damned lake. Well, at least a part of him was attend today. Ready to loose another loved one.

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Darkness. Fire and water. Soldiers, a wasted battlefield. War between two races, two fighters at different sides, unconditional loyalty for their own cause.

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Right in the middle of it – three lovers. Two as deadly enemies in the heat of the moment, one as a secret watcher.

Maybe it was the hardest role of all written for this war. Watching, without being able to intervene. Listening, without being able to shout out their own pain. Watching, without being able to save loved ones. To be allowed a look into the depth's of humanity and condemned to inactivity. A secret watcher.

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All eyes were focused onto the Island and the destruction lying there, everyone waiting for the outcome of this decisive battle. Who would be the victor at the end? The humans, desperately trying to rid their world of a plague, an abnormity of nature? Or the mutants who seeked peace in the hearts of their chasers, being willing to forgive.

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Only a pair of stark blue eyes, carefully hidden beneath fine glasses, was directed at the tall standing figure in the middle of the chaos. Phoenix. Destruction and uncontrollable hate had left their mark but one could still recognize the soft features of the woman she once had been. Jean. Jeannie.

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But was it really still the Jean he had known? The same Jean he had managed to survive boring school lessons with and who he had to thank for being able to see the face of his beloved, even for a few moments. This creature wasn't the gentle, caring Jean he'd known in his life. It wasn't even Jean. It was Phoenix. Phoenix, who had killed the professor. Phoenix, who had killed him as well, as he had given her the opportunity to do so.

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„I'm the only one who can stop her."

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A voice, distant but still audible, ripped him from his thoughts. He looked up trying to identify the owner of the harsh voice. In this moment the world around him began to blur. His thoughts filled by a shrill screech. He shook his head, trying to clear it. He closed his eyes for a moment and hoped that the voice would vanish. But he could still hear the screeching and the last thing he saw before darkness overwhelmed him, was a mental image of a huge blazing bird.

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A red glimmer, clearly visible and intensive despite the tinged glasses, fell on a sensitive retina, and blue eyes were opened wide with almost inhuman speed.

Around him was nothing but emptiness. Abandoned wreckage on a deserted island. It seemed every human being had fled, wanting to save nobody but them self. Creatures were selfish when it came to their lives.

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He observed the field, trying to detect even the slightest movement. He wasn't alone. He could feel that somebody else was here. A fleeting touch of his mind; the fading memory of a kiss, power-hungry and full of desire.

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What he saw seemed to freeze the blood in his veins. For a second, he thought his heart would stop a second time, but the organ just increased the already racing staccato and a wave of adrenaline rushed through his veins and muscles.

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Before him, in a short distance, but still as clear as if he'd been standing right next to her, was Jean. And she wasn't alone. A few feet before her was Logan, half-kneeling and a grim look on his face.

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He was surprised to hear a barely suppressed growl coming from him. Logan, his eternal rival. The Wolverine, trapped inside the body of a man who couldn't be wilder himself.

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He watched Logan nearing the woman with tremendous effort. He closed his eyes and gritted his teeth repeatedly, when a new wave of pure energy ate through the skin that regenerated almost immediately. For one, fleeting, moment even his adamantium-covered breast bone was clearly visible.

Jean, Phoenix, seemed not to care that she hurt him. Her eyes were fixated on the struggling mutant and a small, cold smile played on her thin lips. It was clear that his attempts to cover his cries of pain amused her.

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Blue eyes, hidden beneath fine glasses, followed Logan fighting his way to her until he finally stood before her.

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She spoke for the first time then, and he couldn't suppress the shudder that ran down his spine upon hearing her cold, heartless, _alien_, voice. Once the very first word had left her mouth he covered his ears, trying to keep standing upright. It was too _sinister_.

He could still hear her. Her voice seemed to echo through his mind, to bore into every fiber of his body.

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_You would die for them?_

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He tore his hands down wanting to cry out and dash off swearing his eternal love to her ... But someone beat him to it.

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„Not for them! For you! Just for you..."

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The words were just whispered but still, he could understand them clearly. As if he'd stood right next to them and not several meters away, on the irrecognizable burned top of a car.

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Logan was right in front of her now, their faces only millimeters apart. He hesitated for a moment but then made his way slowly to her, looking into her eyes – deep black holes that bored into nothing but death – and kissed her.

At the same moment three deadly claws sprang forth from his hands and drove into Jeans body tinting her dark red dress even reder with her blood.

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„No..."

He wanted to scream the word, but it came out of his suddenly dry throat as just a mere whisper. Eyes opened wide, he stared at the figures in the center of the battlefield. Although he could see the lifeless body in Logans arms, his brain refused to believe it.

She couldn't be dead! Not Jean! They wanted to marry and see the world. Living. Getting old together and telling their grandchildren about the adventures of the glorious X-Men some day.

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Suddenly, a scream echoed through the darkness. A scream filled with pain, sorrow and more range one men along could bear. The scream of a tortured animal. The scream of a forced murderer.

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Without hesitating a second, the fine glasses fell to the ground, his blue eyes were opened wide – and the sky above Alcatraz shone a fierce red. A last salute for a great woman.

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He couldn't do more. He wouldn't do more. He wasn't a hero anymore. Just a secret watcher.

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Dust. It was all you could see from this hight. And it was probably better this way. The children shouldn't see any more of the destruction. They had already seen too much. They shouldn't see the body of their teacher, too. It was bad enough that Jean wouldn't come back.

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„He's coming."

As if those three words were a relief from the stifling atmosphere in the jet, everyone began to move. At once Hank and Warren began to set up the sick bay at the jet. Bobby and Peter watched the opened hatch, ready to defend them, in case one of the enemies had survived Phoenix. Jimmy, the boy they had saved from the laboratories, was seated next to Kitty, and Ororo occupied herself with checking the jet for it's readiness, again. She had done that at least five times since Logan had sent her and her team back to the Blackbird. But it was better to do something, than just sit around.

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He set one foot before the other, his arms tightened around the tall figure in them. His expression was as blank as always and he looked straight ahead.

At once Hank was at his side, reaching a hand out to check for a pulse. But a harsh growl caused him to back off immediately. The Wolverine wouldn't let anyone near his mate. Although Jean never had been his mate.

Without even acknowledge the other X-Men Logan carried Jean to the rear of the Blackbird and gently laid her down on one of the coats.

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This time Hank approached slowly and more carefully. He certainly wasn't in the mood to deal with a possessive Logan. He had to take care and try to help Jean somehow.

As soon as he stepped at Jeans side and reached for Jeans wrist, Logan just shook his head. „She's dead, Hank. She's dead."

It was that moment that Hanks gaze fell onto the three long wounds in Jeans chest. Single drops still oozed from the deadly wounds he'd inflicted on her. It seemed that he'd drove right through the heart.

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Hank turned to Ororo and sadly shook his head. Logan was right. Jean Grey was dead.

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The Wind Rider had her gaze fixed on Jeans still body and tried to be brave. Only a gasp brought her back to reality and she torn her gaze from Jean to look at Jimmy. The boy looked at the scene before him, eyes wide with shock. Ororo could have slapped herself for her carelessness. How could she think about her own appearence when she had children on board?

„Kitty!" she hissed irritably, but the girl had already pulled Jimmy in her arms, shielded the boy from the image of the dead woman.

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For a moment, Ororo stared at the younger members of her team. Then, she turned abruptly and began to work on the controls. She ignored the tear that ran down her cheek. She hadn't to try and keep her emotions under control now. A rain cloud wouldn't be noticed tonight.


End file.
